C'est la Vie
by bytoutatis
Summary: Louis LeBeau shares his philosophy. A little something I wrote for Robert Clary's 90th birthday. A bit late, but oh well!
A little something I wrote for Robert Clary's 90th birthday. It's based off of a play he was in, called "Seventh Heaven" from around 1955. It wasn't a very successful play so there's not much about it on the Internet, but I found the whole soundtrack on Spotify, and there's a lovely song Clary sings called "C'est La Vie". It's French for "It's life", the saying used when something goes wrong, or right, and I thought it would be nice to interpret this gem of wisdom into Hogan's Heroes.

This is my first publication on here, though I've been reading for a very long time! Any comments would be lovely.

This is set just after Newkirk has arrived at Stalag 13, with LeBeau and Kinch already there, though he doesn't know them very well. Enjoy! :)

HH

The only thing that could make Corporal Peter Newkirk mad were those big-headed, egotistical Yanks in Barracks Five.

God, they made him angry.

It had been that way ever since he'd arrived. Limey this, Limey that.

"Oi, Limey! Pass us the salt" yelled Sergeant King, slapping Newkirk on the back as he passed his table in the mess hall.

"There isn't any, Yank" Newkirk replied, clenching his fists. King acted as if he were born into the rights of his surname- royalty. He'd been there longer than Newkirk, which explained his highly territorial personality. Newkirk doubted the man had ever seen an Englishman before.

"Don't use that tone with me, Limey. You're turning as red as Frenchie's jumper". The small Frenchman sitting across from Newkirk took a sharp breath, but proceeded to cut up his potatoes meticulously. "Getting on your nerves too, am I, LeBeau? What's a guy to do around this place, huh? When even a Cockroach gets mad at him!"

"You watch where you're putting your foot, mate". Newkirk stood up, his knee hitting the table. The Frenchman (whose name was LeBeau) looked utterly devastated as his potatoes spilled onto the floor. "Sorry."

"What, you gonna hit me? You don't look like you could hit a home run, let alone a square punch". King completely ignored the fact that Newkirk was sticking up for a chap he hardly knew, let alone a foreign one.

"Alright, I may not 'ave lived on the ruddy streets in Stepney, but I can still throw a decent one, so watch it". LeBeau shot a warning glance at Newkirk, but he ignored it.

"You can? Go on then, Limey. Give me your best shot." The other prisoners looked on in awe as the Englishman rose from the table and proceeded towards the American.

"I can and I will". Newkirk moved forward. Sure, it was a bad move, but maybe his courage would be applauded. Heck, maybe he'd even hit the guy. He took a deep breath, and raising his fist, he- a small hand grabbed his wrist.

"Non, you are doing it wrong". Newkirk looked down to see the small Frenchman repositioning his hand so it had a better angle. "More accurate, see? More force. He will go back to flying". LeBeau grinned at his own joke. King laughed, rising from his seat.

"Teaching you to waltz, is he? Well, Frenchie, if you're so clever, why don't you have a go?" King spoke fast and quietly, leaving LeBeau with a confused look on his face.

"Je ne comprends pas" he replied. "At what?" His stunned language barrier had been enough- King threw his fist towards his face and sent the stunned Frenchman flying across the room.

"Why, you-" Newkirk ran forward and hit King in the nose, as hard as he could. The American fell backwards, and that's when the guards decided to intervene. LeBeau was just resurfacing from under a table on the other side of the room with blood running down his face, so Newkirk grabbed his arm and ran out into the compound.

He could hear the shouts of the guards following him, but he didn't let up. As soon as he reached Barracks Two, Newkirk gave a sigh of relief and slammed the door shut.

"You alright?" He asked. LeBeau was dabbing his nose with a tissue, but was staring Newkirk in the face.

"You are stupid, you know that?" He said quietly. "But you have a good technique. Keep that up and you'll be out of here in a week".

"What, escape? Cor, that'd be nice".

"Non, I mean out of here and into the cooler." Newkirk squinted, sitting down onto the bunk below his where LeBeau was.

"What's the cooler?"

"You mean you don't know? It's solitary. Small. The food, however, is marginally better than what they serve in the food hall". Newkirk laughed at that, and the Frenchman extended his hand.

"Corporal Louis LeBeau. I don't believe we've been introduced."

"Well, we're the same rank, at least. Corporal Peter Newkirk". LeBeau smiled, wiping the last of the blood from his nose and carefully discarding the tissue without looking at it. "I don't know why 'e makes me so ruddy angry. Probably because 'e thinks 'e's so much better than everyone else".

LeBeau shrugged, staring mournfully into the distance. Newkirk thought he looked upset at what had happened, but in reality he was mourning the loss of his potatoes.

"I'm sorry about what 'appened. I shouldn't 'ave let 'im 'it you".

"C'est la vie".

"I'm sorry?" LeBeau looked up at Newkirk in surprise, then shook his head slowly.

"Don't you even know a little bit of French?" Newkirk chuckled, getting up from the bunk and walking over to the barracks' only sink.

"Not a bleeding word. The bird that taught us, though...cor, she was a looker. None of us could ruddy concentrate with 'er standing there. I just remember 'je t'aime'- you know, in case she was ever free on a Friday night". Louis laughed, shaking his head.

"Your accent is atrocious. But you really don't know what c'est la vie means?" After the Englishman shook his head once more, LeBeau stared off into the distance and began to recite.

"C'est la vie, mon ami, c'est la vie."

"Blimey, I didn't expect a ruddy poem. 'Ere you go, little mate" Newkirk smiled, tossing a wet cloth over to LeBeau so he could dab his increasingly bruising eye.

"Merci, mon ami. It means "it's life", you know, when something awful happens and you just carry on. That's the only way, isn't it? Not to dwell on the past?" Newkirk frowned, rejoining LeBeau on the bunk.

"I don't think I'm very good at that. That King Yank makes my blood boil...especially because of what 'e did to you". The Frenchman looked betrayed, clutching his heart dramatically.

"He caught me off guard!" he yelled, his ears turning pink. "I just need to learn some more English, then the next time I see him-"

"Looks like someone needs a little c'est la vie" Newkirk grinned. LeBeau sighed, flopping back onto the bunk.

"You're right. I guess we should both just ignore him- and anyone else who annoys us, for that matter". Newkirk nodded knowingly. They sat in silence for a while, before one of the bunk beds opened up and a tall black sergeant stepped out. This still managed to surprise the two corporals- in all their weeks of being captured they never believed that a tunnel system would steadily grow beneath their feet.

"Alright, guys?" Sergeant Kinchloe asked as he closed the bunk with two taps to the wooden frame, noticing the bruise around LeBeau's eye. "You haven't been beating anyone up again, have you, Newkirk?" Newkirk chose to ignore that comment.

"Yes, we're fine. Any updates?" LeBeau asked. He knew of the hidden radio they had, although he'd never worked it.

"Yeah- we got ourselves a colonel" Kinch grinned. "They're bringing him in tomorrow-I've no clue why he's not going to an officer's camp, but from what London tells me, he's a real something".

"Sounds good, Kinch" said Newkirk. "Need any 'elp?"

"Actually, help would be good- there's an air raid on Düsseldorf tonight, and chances are we'll be picking up some downed fliers. You up for it?"

"Oui".

"Of course". Kinchloe laughed, shaking his head.

"I've a feeling we'll make a good team. At 2100 hours, meet me in the radio room." The two corporals nodded, and Sergeant Kinchloe retreated back into the tunnel.

"So...we're friends, then?" Newkirk asked. LeBeau laughed, patting the Englishman on the back.

"Of course. Allies, if you like. Not that we aren't already. We should go and get ready for the mission".

"Blimey, you make it sound like we're ruddy spies" Newkirk muttered, as he led LeBeau into the tunnel.

"Maybe we are! It's a lot more fun than just being stuck inside all the time".

"You're right there, little mate. C'mon, let's go and conduct espionage".

"I'm right behind you, mon pote".

HH

And there you have it! Thanks for reading :)


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